


Aphrodisia IV

by charis2770



Series: Finding Vengeance...or is it Something Else? [32]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, BDSM, Drug-Induced Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Rough Sex, Slash, Switching, Tears, Yaoi, Yoh being a badass, final chapter of the aphrodisia series, nonconsensual drugging, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8040598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: Since the first aphrodisiac incident, Asami has had people trying to find out what happened, why, and how. Nothing much has come of that investigation until now. Once he gets the report, Asami doesn't want to waste any time looking into it, but he and Feilong have to be out of town, so he asks Yoh to check things out on the down low, not wanting to upset anyone until he knows whether there's anything worth knowing. Yoh is glad to help, but things don't go precisely according to plan....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adalie_Delacroix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adalie_Delacroix/gifts).



> This part of the series is dedicated to Adalie+Delacroix, who gave me the idea. She pointed out that Yoh had not yet had his turn to be attacked by the unknown poisoner, and offered some great suggestions on how to handle it! Thank you so much! I hope it meets with your approval. I'm sure I've strayed a little from exactly how you envisioned things, but I've done my best while remaining true to my own vision of the characters. 
> 
> Bear in mind that in the real world, there is no such thing as a scientifically proven aphrodisiac that functions the way the drugs in these stories do. Using drugs to enhance sex, aside from medically prescribed ones, is dangerous! The author will never condone their use, as anything that clouds your judgment also inhibits your ability to give informed consent

The summons is a little unusual, but not entirely surprising. It’s not the first time Asami has asked to speak to him in private. Most of the time, the reason for it has been something dirty to do with Feilong. Although Asami has a prior claim, he’s become more and more solicitous of Yoh’s feelings as time has gone on, not less. Any time there’s something new Feilong has asked for, or that Asami wants to try, he talks to Yoh about it first. When there’s something that involves Yoh in some way, Asami makes doubly sure to speak to him in private. He wants to make sure for himself that Yoh is okay with whatever it is, and believes that Yoh will feel more free to be really honest about his feelings and to express any misgivings if Feilong isn’t in the room. Privately, Yoh doesn’t think so. He doesn’t lie to his lover about things like this. He understands perfectly clearly that doing so would be the beginning of the end for them. You can’t hold your tongue if you have any sort of a problem with issues in a relationship or you’ll sabotage your own happiness. And hasn’t he said over and over again that when it comes to Feilong’s pleasure, there’s little he won’t do, that there’s no shame in loving someone and the things you do to show it, so long as nobody is hurt by it (whether physically or emotionally) and everyone involved says yes. Asami agrees with him whenever he repeats it, but still goes on making sure he speaks with Yoh privately on the rare occasion that some new depravity comes up. Yoh has found that he doesn’t mind, even if the privacy isn’t necessary. It isn’t lip service from Asami, he’s doing it to show his respect, of which Yoh has had little enough in his life.

 

Today’s summons is about Feilong, or partly anyway, but not for the reasons Yoh expects. Asami looks up from some papers he’s studying, a frown on his handsome face, when Yoh taps on the door frame. His facial expression remains serious, lacking entirely the usual small twinkle of devilment he always has in his eyes when the subject is sexual in nature. 

 

“Come in, Yoh, and sit down please,” he says absently, eyes returning to the papers in his hand. Yoh does, tension stirring in his stomach.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Perhaps nothing, but I’ve a favor to ask you. I haven’t spoken to Feilong or Akihito about this yet, because there may well be nothing to discuss. Fei and I have to be in Osaka until tomorrow morning.. We’re signing the final permits on the vineyard today and filing them first thing in the morning, so long as the last inspections go as expected. We’ll have several meetings with staff as well, and barring complications, which I don’t anticipate, can begin production almost immediately.”

 

“What do you need me to do?” asks Yoh. Asami’s mouth quirks a little.

 

“We can always depend on you,” he muses softly. “You don’t even work for me anymore, yet you don’t hesitate.”

 

“You may not be my employer anymore,” says Yoh, shrugging one shoulder a little awkwardly because while he can speak of his emotions easily with Feilong, it’s still not an easy thing for him with anyone else, “but you’re...you and Akihito...you’re family. Name it, and if it’s within my power, I’ll see that it’s done.”

 

“You’re aware that I’ve had people attempting to analyze and trace the contents of the drugs Aki, myself and Feilong were dosed with in the past?” Asami’s question is mostly rhetorical, because it goes without saying, but Yoh answers anyway, a small spark of anger flaring at the memory of how Feilong had nearly died as a result of the aphrodisiac he’d unknowingly taken quite some time ago.

 

“Of course. You said so at the time, and it’s not something you’d let go even if you hadn’t told us you were investigating. You’ve found something?”

 

“All three compounds were analyzed some time ago, and I’ve had a man I trust trying to trace the origins of any or all of the chemicals. I’d nearly given up, been ready to believe that all three events were random, and unrelated.”

 

“But now you believe otherwise?”

 

Asami nods shortly and hands Yoh the small sheaf of papers he’s been holding.

 

“Here’s what my man has found so far. Some of it is speculation, and may lead to nothing. That’s why I haven’t said anything yet, and why I’d like to ask you to look into it quietly. I’d as soon not alarm anyone, or dredge up painful memories if there really is nothing to it.”

 

“I agree,” says Yoh. “I’ll be happy to do it. You can leave this in my hands.”

 

“I know I can. Let me know what you find. I’d better get moving, we need to be in Osaka by 10.” He stands, and Yoh follows his example, taking the report from the investigator and turning to leave the room. Asami’s voice makes him pause. “And Yoh? Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

  
  


The person investigating the reports from Asami’s chemists had been thorough. His reports are organized and concise, but informative. Yoh’s frown matches Asami’s when he reads in the report that, though the three drugs had varying effects and were made up of different formulas, there were several chemicals in common in all of them. Not just the same chemicals... _ identical  _ ones. From the same batch. Yoh finds the spark of anger from earlier flaring. He sees that the chemist's’ report states that they don’t believe the drug Feilong was given was actually meant to endanger him the way it had, but he doesn’t care. The analysis had also revealed that Feilong’s DNA had been found in it. The hand not holding the report curls into a fist. 

 

Whomever had conducted the investigation had tracked down a lot of leads that had led to dead ends. Yoh reads every detail anyway, because he hasn’t become good at his job by cutting any corners. At long last, after months of investigation, the man had located the manufacturers of three of the four chemicals the drugs had in common. Things had moved along more quickly then, as he’d turned his efforts to discovering the locations of anyone who’d ordered all of them. It was a manageable list, and most of them had turned out to be reputable chemical or pharmaceutical companies, since none of these particular chemicals were controlled substances or particularly dangerous on their own. Finally, in the end, he’d eliminated all but one address. A small warehouse on the outskirts of the city, owned by some kind of shell company. He’d been unable to track it back to whomever was behind said shell company, as it was masterfully buried under  _ more _ shell companies, all of which have excellent internet security protecting their records from any sort of hack. Yoh doesn’t care about internet security. He has an address.

 

He rents a nondescript vehicle under one of his several aliases and drives out to the location to do a little recon before deciding how to proceed. The address in question can barely be considered a warehouse. If it’s ever been used to store anything, it has to have been something that’s either extremely small or that’s packaged in miniscule quantities. There are only two vehicles in the parking lot, and no fence. Apparently, whomever is running the operation is confident they won’t be discovered. He shakes his head as he makes a second drive-by. How anyone who’s heard of the man can still be stupid enough to underestimate Asami Ryuichi’s resources is baffling to him. He spends a few hours watching the building, learning as much as he can, then returns home to prepare for tonight.

 

As evening approaches, he receives a text from Akihito, who is working on an assignment, informing Yoh that he’ll probably be rather late but wondering if he’d like to have dinner, since they’re both used to dining at ridiculous hours anyway. Yoh hunches his shoulders in discomfort as he formulates his reply. He doesn’t like lying to his friend, but understands Asami’s reasoning in asking him to keep things quiet until he’s learned more. He tells Aki that he has some work of his own that he’s doing for Feilong and isn’t sure himself when he’ll be home, but that if the timing works out, he’ll be happy to. At least parts of the message are true. Cooking with Akihito is something he’d been surprised to find he really enjoys. He’d never have guessed that the irritating brat he’d had to track down on the streets of Hong Kong a few years ago, and drag back to Feilong’s compound by his hair to keep the little wretch safe would ever turn out to be such a good friend. But he has. He smiles to himself, remembering their runaway camping trip, as he packs a duffle with the things he’ll need for tonight.

 

He’s a little taken aback to discover the two cars still sitting in the parking lot, and the faint glow of light through the grimy windows of the building when he returns, well after dark when all of the other businesses on the street are closed. He pauses to reassess. He’d anticipated breaking in to discover evidence he could give to Asami, and that they’d proceed from there together after informing Feilong of the situation. He doesn’t pause for long. If the perpetrators of the malicious attack on his master are in there….Well. At the very least, he’s confident in his ability to get close enough to find out. 

 

Swiftly, he blacks his face and pulls on a tightly fitting pair of gloves. Parking the car behind another building further up the block, he slips into the night, gear carefully secured so that nothing rattles or bangs against anything. His footsteps are silent as he swiftly crosses to the back side of the row of buildings where there is no road, only scrub brush and a drainage ditch, backed by a steep embankment. He uses the ditch, thankful it is concrete, to keep his body well below line of sight from the windows, all of them dark save his target. There are no streetlights on this side either, another factor in his favor. In under two minutes, he pauses to watch and listen from his position in the dry ditch behind the small warehouse. The street has little traffic, and the night is still. The building is no more than corrugated siding, so he’s able to make out the faint sound of voices from inside. They’re not really conversing, only making the occasional comment, but he’s patient. His heart beats slow and steady in his chest. He can’t make out what they’re saying, as he’s too far away yet, but he can just discern tone and inflection. After ten minutes, he’s relatively certain that there are either only two men inside, or that their compatriots are silent types. 

 

Carefully, he breaches the drainage ditch and begins his approach. He waits for the sounds of voices before moving through the dry grass and scrub, counting on it to conceal any sound he might make. Once he reaches pavement, he’s able to move more swiftly. A memory flashes through his mind, of another warehouse on another night. The scar on his chest itches at the thought. He grimaces, feeling the scar tissue at his ear pull a little. With a frown, he sets these memories aside, clears his mind, and focuses on the task at hand. There are no windows on the back side of the building, so he slips quickly right up against the gradually rusting brown steel and gently presses his ear to it. Breathing silently through his mouth so it won’t interfere with his hearing, he listens. There’s no sound of machinery of any kind. 

 

“As I said, this really doesn’t require constant attention. I assure you, it will be quite safe to be left overnight. I see no reason why we shouldn’t both go home and get a good night’s…”

 

“No reason except the boss says stay and make sure it’s done right.”

 

The second voice interrupts the first. Yoh makes mental notes. The first speaker’s voice is quiet, almost timid. The second is rough, gravelly, and sounds annoyed. There’s a lengthy pause, then the second voice speaks again.

 

“How long til it’s done?”

 

“As I’ve said, Mr. Sato, another twelve to fourteen hours at the least,” replies the first voice. It sounds a great deal more cultured than the other speaker. “The distillation of the compound cannot be rushed, or it will fail to catalyze correctly. It truly does not need to be attended every moment. This equipment is state of the art. The process will complete in its own time whether it’s watched or not.” Not just cultured, Yoh corrects himself, but educated.

 

“Twelve hours,” snarls the second man, disgust evident in his voice. “Damn it. Well it doesn’t matter, so you might as well quit your bitching, Doctor. The boss says stay, we stay, and he’s the one writin’ your paycheck.”

 

“As you say,” sighs the first speaker, and the voices fall silent again. Yoh remains motionless, keeping his ear against the wall, and keeps waiting. It doesn’t occur to him to grow impatient. After a few minutes, his patience is rewarded.

 

“You’re sure about this batch?” The rougher voice breaks the silence abruptly. The one called Sato. It’s the most common surname in Japan. Yoh wonders if it’s his real name.

 

“Again,” says the man the other refers to as Doctor, and it’s clear that he’s trying for patience and falling a little short, “I’m confident in my calculations, but I can make no absolute guarantees until the end result is tested.”

 

“The boss wants results!”

 

“And he’ll have them, Mr. Sato, I assure you, but this is cutting edge science. What I am doing has only ever been done with dubious success at best. Did not my other formulae function within the desired parameters?”

 

“Hell if I know,” growls Sato. “I don’t think the boss has gotten any good surveillance on his targets yet. But that ain’t my department. My job’s just babysitting you and makin’ sure you get results.”

 

“You could always test this on the subject of your choosing,” offers the Doctor, and Yoh hears a faint metallic rasp, followed a few moments later by a soft thunk. It sounds like something has been picked up and then set back down on a table. He frowns. Does that mean this scientist, for he deduces that is the sort of “doctor” the first speaker is likely to be, as opposed to a medical doctor, also has a finished product in addition to whatever compound he’s distilling as the men wait? Are these even the same kinds of drugs as the ones his friends and lover were exposed to? 

 

“And waste it? I ain’t that stupid, even if it would be funny watching some poor slob try to fuck everything that moved.” He barks out a harsh, raucous laugh. Yoh grits his teeth, his hand sliding to the butt of his pistol. His question is answered, but it doesn’t serve to calm him. That these unknown men aren’t devising some even more nefarious poison is better than if they were, but only a little. He doesn’t even know if Akihito, Asami or Feilong are still targets, or if this new batch of aphrodisiac is intended for someone else, but it matters little. These drugs, regardless of their variations in effect, take away the free will of those who ingest them. Never mind that all of them have lovers able and willing to aid them in metabolizing the drugs, they’d been  _ forced _ to respond to the demands it had made on their bodies. And if Asami had not chosen to throw caution to the winds and risk what he’d only heard rumored would abate Feilong’s suffering, his master might have died. They had, all three of them, been forced to watch him dying by inches for days before that. No. This will  _ not _ continue.

 

He doesn’t wait to listen for the Doctor’s response to his babysitter. He eases down the back of the building to the end farthest from where he hears the voices. He’d already determined earlier in the day that, like many prefabricated buildings of its type, this one has doors at either end, and that both doors contain slim, rectangular windows of safety glass, the type with the diamond patterned wire mesh sandwiched between layers of glass, offset from center over the doorknob. Pressing his back to the larger, unwindowed part of the door and slowly peers around the edge of the glass.

 

Inside, the building is essentially a large, open space. There’s a small room standing out from the back wall where he’d been listening, and from the plumbing he’d seen protruding outside the wall and into the ground, he deduces that it’s a bathroom. Nearer to the other door, about two-thirds of the way across the open space, there are three tables set up in a U shape. They’re covered with lab equipment of varying sorts. Beakers connected by glass tubing contain a gently bubbling, pinkish liquid. He recognizes computers and a printer,  but the purposes of most of the equipment is mysterious to him. Along one wall there is a refrigerator, a short set of cabinets which host a hot plate and a microwave oven, a chair, and a worn sofa of an indeterminate greenish-yellow color. On the opposite wall, there’s a rollaway bed. 

 

In the center of the U of tables sits a round little balding man in a lab coat. He’s typing something on one of the two computers, his back to Yoh. Another man slouches on the sofa, smoking a cigarette and looking both bored and irritated. Everything about this man screams hired muscle, from his unremarkable black suit to his blocky, muscled build, crooked nose, and shifty eyes. He can see the bulge of a pistol under his jacket and scoffs mentally. Since being hired by Asami years ago, he’s never owned a suit that didn’t conceal a weapon perfectly. He’s relieved to see that the two men are the only ones in the building. No less-talkative associate to complicate things. He grins viciously, mind made up. This operation closes down tonight. The scientist won’t represent a threat. He’s fairly obviously unarmed, as his lab coat clings too tightly to his rotund body as he bends over the table, and he’s clearly not in any kind of physical shape. A single opponent, seated, his weapon holstered. 

 

Painstakingly, he closes his fingers around the doorknob and slowly tries to turn it. It’s locked, as expected, but one always checks. He slides his lockpicks out of one of the pockets in his black cargo pants, thumbing open the catch on his holster before he begins, in case he needs to draw quickly. He ducks under the window and eases to the other side of the door, closer to its knob. Before he begins, the takes out a small aerosol can of lubricant and inserts its tiny pipe into the keyhole, giving the inner mechanism of the lock a quick squirt. Slowly and carefully he inserts the picks into the keyhole. Under normal circumstances, he could have it open in seconds, but it would make noise. Gently, he manipulates the picks inside the lock, his hands steady, moving them slowly and carefully so they don’t grate on metal or rattle. When he feels the teeth of the lock’s inner tumblers, he works the picks into the correct position and waits. As soon as he hears a voice resume speaking inside, he turns them. The door he’s preparing to enter is a good 30 feet from the men near the other end of the building, and he’s confident their speech covers up the small click of the lock releasing. He straightens and peeks through the window again. Nothing inside has changed. He draws his gun and pauses for a few moments. Yoh takes a deep breath, lungs expanding to their full capacity, then lets it out slowly. His mind clears once more, heart slows, body stills. He’s trained himself to reach this place of total calm with a single breath. He spares one thought for Feilong in Osaka, can see the face he has loved for so long when he closes his eyes.

 

“I love you, Feilong-sama,” he thinks to himself. He’s never told anyone so, but he’s done this approximately since they both got out of prison, before entering even a potential combat situation….because he will not say aloud that he intends to always make sure Feilong’s is the last face he sees, just in case. 

 

He waits until the man on the sofa, Mr. Sato, looks away, then makes his move. The door slams open and he is inside in the blink of an eye, target acquired, pistol steady. 

 

“Don’t move,” he says coldly.

 

The scientist’s reaction is almost comical. He squeals loudly, sounding not at all unlike a pig, spinning around in his office chair to goggle at the intruder. He wears thick glasses that make his eyes look almost comically large, especially bugging out in shock and terror as they are right now. The man on the sofa starts in surprise, a hand going reflexively towards his gun, cigarette falling unnoticed from his open mouth. 

 

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” snarls Yoh, advancing slowly towards the two men.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” demands Sato, or whatever his name is, because on closer perusal it’s clear to Yoh that he’s not Japanese. Chinese, he’s nearly certain, quickly discarding his momentary dread that this may have something to do with Baishe. He knows everyone from that now-defunct organization, and he’s never seen this man before.

 

“That’s none of your concern,” snaps Yoh. The Doctor starts to babble almost incoherently, though Yoh spares him little attention. His pleas for his life, claims that it’s not his fault, he had no choice, they’re making him, are of no interest at the moment. He stops a few feet away from the tables containing the lab equipment. “Stand up,” he orders the man on the sofa, “ _ slowly. _ ”

 

Both men obey him, Sato rising slowly, not taking his eyes from Yoh’s face as he glares venomously, the scientist leaping to his feet in alarm, making everything on the table rattle violently. Yoh’s eyes are drawn to the movement, as there’s an open flame under one of the beakers. In that split second of distraction, Sato makes his own move, drawing his gun and attempting to bring it to bear.

 

Yoh reacts without having to think about it. His eyes may have moved for a brief moment, but his hand has not. His finger squeezes the trigger before the other man’s weapon has cleared its holster. It is silenced, so there is no more than a soft  _ Fffssst _ of sound. Crimson blooms bright against the white of the man’s shirt. His eyes widen, mouth falling open slightly, although no sound emerges. The pistol he’d been attempting to draw falls to the floor with a quiet thud on the worn, brown industrial carpeting. 

 

“Shut up,” says Yoh absently at the fat little scientist, who has begun screaming shrilly, as he steps forward and leans down to check the fallen man’s pulse. As he expects, he doesn’t find one. Shaking his head angrily at the loss of a suspect to question, especially one clearly in the immediate employ of whoever is behind this operation, he straightens and turns to the Doctor. 

 

Some kind of aerosolized mist envelops him. Red-faced and shaking, the scientist has seized some kind of can and pointed it at Yoh, his finger pressing down on the button which dispenses it so hard his fingertip is white. The can shakes as wildly as the man’s hands, causing the contents of the small canister to spray out all over Yoh. With a curse, he knocks it from the panicked little man’s grasp. It sails away and bounces off a wall, the hissing sound of it releasing its contents ceasing. Wiping the back of his hand across his face, Yoh tamps down on rising alarm when he realizes that whatever was in the cannister isn’t burning his eyes or nose at all. It smells pleasant, in fact, with a faint scent of lavender. The doctor cowers, covering his head with his arms.

 

“Don’t kill me, please don’t kill me! It’s not my fault! Please! Please, have mercy,” he cries.

 

“I’m not going to kill you, idiot, unless you do something stupid like your friend there,” snaps Yoh irritably. Won’t the man be quiet? His shrill voice hurts Yoh’s ears. Everything seems louder than before, in fact. He can hear his own heart beating, his pulse beginning to race. He can hear the liquid in the beakers bubbling, even the electronic hum of the computers and other wired equipment on the tables. He realizes his sense of smell is heightening rapidly too. Musty carpet, rust, chemicals, the scientist’s acrid fear sweat, and over all of it, the copper tang of blood and lavender. “What was in that can?” he demands angrily, afraid he knows all too well. The terrified doctor doesn’t answer, but keeps pleading for his life. 

 

Saliva pools in Yoh’s mouth. His clothing against his skin is already almost too much. The contents of the aerosol can have covered him quite liberally. He feels his cock stir and begin to thicken. With a growl of annoyance, he pulls a couple of zip ties from another pocket. Roughly forcing the scientist to the floor, ignoring the man’s yelp of pain as he falls heavily, Yoh secures both his wrists and ankles, hands behind his back. When he grasps the feebly struggling doctor by the back of his lab coat and drags him over to the small bathroom, he wonders briefly why on earth he’d be wearing a lab coat made of silk. Glancing down at it, he can see perfectly well that it’s ordinary polyester cloth. This isn’t good. The other man’s cries are beginning to make his head hurt. After he’s shoved the little bastard into the bathroom, he produces a roll of duct tape, tears off a piece, and claps it over the doctor’s mouth. Blessed quiet. At least the man stops screaming anyway. Slamming the door, he drags the chair from beside the sofa and wedges it under the doorknob. Not that he expects the man to be able to reach it, with his hands behind his back and his ankles secured tightly together, but even with all of his senses starting to go berserk, Yoh’s instincts to be thorough override his body’s reaction to whatever was in the can. He goes in search of it, finding it lying on its side in a corner. Picking it up, he squints at it, blinking rapidly to try to clear his vision, which is starting to blur a little. There’s nothing on the label to identify the contents, other than a batch number and some instructions.

 

“One dose: dispense nozzle for no more than two seconds,” he reads. With a sinking feeling, he notes that this is followed by, “Do not exceed two doses in 24 hours.” How long had the doctor held down the button before Yoh had stopped him? Ten seconds? Fifteen? Staggering a little, he goes to the tables and sets the can down. His hands are shaking a little, but he concentrates, forcing them to be steady as he turns off the flame under the beaker. He yanks the cords out of everything electronic on the table and stuffs them in his small backpack. The scientist’s cell phone is on the table. He takes that too, then goes to the body of the mysterious “Mr. Sato.” As quickly as he can make his hands obey him, he searches through pockets, recovering a wallet and another cell phone. Taking these as well, along with the dropped pistol, he straightens and looks around. The scene is as secure as he can make it right now. He recognizes that he has to get out of here, and quickly, while he still can.

 

Withdrawing his own phone, he calls Suoh, mind racing. He can’t tell Suoh his condition. Asami’s bodyguard answers promptly.

 

“I need a scene secured,” says Yoh as calmly as he can. “And cleaned. There’s a suspect in the bathroom. Another suspect has fled on foot and I need to pursue. He’s wounded, so he won’t have gotten far.”

 

“I have your location,” replies Suoh. He doesn’t ask questions, for which Yoh is grateful, but this is no surprise. There’s no third man, of course, but this way Suoh won’t question Yoh leaving the scene. He’ll get here fast, and take care of everything. Knowing without a doubt that he can trust the big blond man to do his job, Yoh hurries from the building, turning the lights off and locking it behind him. He runs to his car, recognizing that he’s growing more compromised by the minute. He can think of nothing but making it home, to safety, before he loses control. His erection aches abominably between his legs as he drives, throbbing along with his pounding heart. He grits his teeth and forces himself to focus. Oh, it’s difficult. His skin feels like it’s on fire. The sensation of the car seat against his back, ass and thighs reminds him forcibly of Feilong pressed against him, holding him down. He moans softly and shakes his head to clear it. The steering wheel under his hands feels wonderful. He catches himself running his palms along it and forces himself to stop.

 

He finds it miraculous that he makes it back home safely, and knows it is only thanks to the iron force of his will. He staggers drunkenly to the elevator and presses the button for his floor. His fingers fumble with they key, dropping them twice before he manages to open it. He makes it to the bedroom my leaning against the walls. When did they replace paint and drywall with marble? His shaking hands don’t want to obey him, but he can’t bear the sensation of his clothing against his skin a moment longer. It feels like sandpaper. He tears at them, a frustrated growl in his throat. He knows he sounds more animal than human, but can’t bring himself to care. Finally naked, he falls onto the bed. His hand steals towards his madly throbbing cock, but he stops himself.

 

“No,” he moans. Feilong won’t be home until late tomorrow morning, after the final permits are filed with the codes office in Osaka. Maybe if he doesn’t give in to the need, he won’t lose control. He’ll just make himself wait it out, let his body metabolize the drug. He’s afraid that if he allows himself to come even once, he won’t be able to stop. There’s no one here to help him. He won’t go to Akihito for this. Aki is his friend, nothing more. Neither of them wants more. He only wants Feilong, and Feilong is 500 kilometers away. Whimpering desolately, he wraps himself tightly is soft cotton sheets that feel better than silk against his fevered skin, he curls into a ball of misery and mindless need. He loses track of time, his entire being consumed with a desire so powerful and painful that it terrifies him. Dimly, he hears the chime of his phone signifying a text message, but can’t bring himself to reach for it. After a few minutes, it goes off again. He loses track of how many times it sounds, the tone lost to the clamoring in his brain, the need for release. He has no idea of how much time passes when a different sound penetrates the fog.

 

“Yoh? Yoh!”

 

It’s Akihito’s voice, outside the bedroom door. He covers his ears with his hands when Aki knocks. It’s so loud.

 

“I know you’re in there, Yoh! What’s going on? Are you okay?”

 

“Guh...Go away, Aki,” he rasps.

 

“What happened? Are you sick? Are...are you  _ hurt _ ?!” He can hear the worry in his friend’s voice, but can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t want to see anyone. He needs to focus all his attention on fighting the drug. And on not just exploding without even touching himself. His brain grabs on to some of Akihito’s words.

 

“S...sick,” he grits out. “I’ll...be okay. Just...let me...rest.”

 

“You sound terrible! I’m coming in!”

 

“NO!” shouts Yoh desperately, but it’s too late. Aki has opened the door and steps inside. Yoh hears his soft gasp of alarm. He chokes back a groan. Akihito rushes to his side and kneels beside the bed. Yoh opens bleary eyes and tries to focus on the concerned face of the young man hovering beside him.

 

“Oh my gosh, Yoh, you look awful!” Aki reaches out and gently places his hand on Yoh’s forehead, checking for fever. The sensation of another person’s skin against his own is almost unbearable, it feels so good. His eyes roll back and he moans, his body shuddering with pleasure.

 

Akihito frowns. Yoh’s skin against his palm is hot and damp, which seems to bear out the other man’s claim that he’s sick, but there’s a  _ tone _ in his friend’s moan in response to his touch that sets off alarm bells of a different kind. His pupils are completely blown, his mouth slack, the expression on his face, while filled with evident misery, is also awfully similar to one he’s seen on Yoh’s face when he...not that Aki has ever really  _ watched _ on purpose, but he’s caught glimpses...with Feilong.

 

“Yoh,” he says sharply, “have you been drugged?”

 

Akihito is usually so heedless, even air headed at times, that it’s easy to forget he can be uncomfortably perceptive. In a panic, Yoh’s hand flashes out and grips Aki’s wrist tightly.

 

“You will  _ not _ call Feilong-sama! He and Asami’s meetings are important! I will be fine. I just…” Yoh swallows thickly. He hadn’t thought about it when he’d grabbed Akihito. He can feel the young man’s pulse beating in his wrist. His skin is warm and soft. This is not good. He lets go of Aki’s wrist like he’s been scalded, but can’t hold back a soft whimper. Oh gods, it feels too good to touch his skin. Horror follows closely on the tail of this thought. Akihito is his friend! He doesn’t want this.  _ Neither _ of them would ever want it! “I just need to rest. It will...it will pass…”

 

“Don’t be stupid,” yells Aki, getting to his feet and glaring down at Yoh, his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry, Yoh. You can be mad at me later if you want to, but you don’t look good. Just...just trying to wait it out is crazy! You don’t know what’s going to happen! It could be something like what happened to Feilong and…”

 

“It’s not,” Yoh interrupts.

 

“Oh yeah? How do you know?” demands Akihito furiously.

 

“Be...because it...feels too good...when you touch me,” Yoh pants, opening one eye to peer up at his irritated friend. He think he even almost manages to nearly smirk a little. “And I p-promise I’m not in love with you.”

 

“This isn’t funny, you asshole! All of us who got drugged had different reactions, and we don’t know what’s really happening to you! At least if you can still joke, you’re probably not dying or anything, but you’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you go through this by yourself. Yoh...I don’t even think you  _ can _ . The doctor said, back when it happened to us, that something about all the drugs made them work so that sex...or...well, orgasm...was the only way to make it go away. I don’t know for sure, but I know my heart beats pretty fast and hard sometimes when I’m...really excited…” Aki’s face is red, the intimacy of the subject obviously embarrassing him, but he plows ahead stubbornly. “Well, it seems to me that it wouldn’t be very good for your body if that went on for too long. So...so I’m sorry. But I’m doing it!” 

 

With that, he snatches Yoh’s phone off the bedside table, despite Yoh’s abortive attempt to stop him, and dances back out of reach, correctly surmising that Yoh is in no shape to follow him. Admonishing his friend to stay put, he steps out in the hall and closes the door behind him. Biting his lip, he wonders who he should call. Feilong is the one who needs to know, and is the only one Yoh needs, but Aki’s instinct is always to reach out to Asami when there’s a problem. He has no idea how Feilong is going to react, and doesn’t really think he wants to try to handle him, because no matter what his reaction is, it’s sure to be pretty spectacular. Mind made up, he uses Yoh’s phone to call Asami.

 

“You have something to report?” Asami’s voice sounds different than it usually does when he answers, and the question is confusing. Then Aki mentally smacks himself in the forehead. Of course Asami assumes it’s Yoh calling him. And what kind of question is that? His eyes narrow.

 

“Do  _ you _ know something about what’s happened to Yoh?” he demands angrily. 

 

“Akihito. Is something wrong?”

 

“I’ll say something’s wrong! Yoh’s been drugged!”

 

“Drugged how?” Asami’s voice is sharp.

 

“Like the rest of us were! And what kinda question was that anyway? What do you know about it?”

 

“Akihito!” Asami interrupts him. “I’ll answer your questions, but if what you say is true, I think now is probably not the time.”

 

“Oh,” Aki swipes his fingers through his hair, which makes it stand up in even wilder directions than before, because he realizes that Asami is right, and is main concern should be for Yoh. “I...I called you first Asami...I didn’t know what to do. It’s...he seems pretty bad. He needs Feilong, because...because….I mean, I’d…”

 

“It’s all right.” Asami’s voice is surprisingly gentle. “I know you’d do anything to help your friend. And I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

 

“I know  _ that, _ ” says Aki, rolling his eyes.

 

“I’m glad your faith in me is strong enough to believe that. But neither you nor Yoh would want it, and it would make things awkward between you, and be humiliating for Yoh once he recovers. He does need Feilong, and I’ll send him as quickly as possible. I’m messaging Kirishima to ready the helicopter as we speak. Go on.”

 

“He’s trying to just….tough it out. I don’t think he’s even touched himself. He’s hot...not burning like Fei was, but sweaty hot, and he’s really miserable.”

 

“I can well imagine.” Asami’s voice is wry, but Akihito knows that Asami does know. When the drug had hit him, Asami had been unable to….finish...in any way other than by fucking. 

 

“He’s just curled up in a ball in bed. He can talk, mostly, and he’s...aware? But I don’t think it’s very good for his...maybe his blood pressure? To just go on like this without doing anything. Do you think I should call Dr. Yamato?”

 

“Hm. Yoh won’t want him, but I think he’d better be seen, just in case. If all the drugs had been the same, we’d be familiar with the effects and know he’s not in danger, but each was different, so I think we’d better be safe than sorry. If you’ll call the doctor, I’ll talk to Feilong and send him on his way. He’ll be there in about an hour and a half. See if you can convince Yoh to...attempt to start the process on his own. I don’t like the delay, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I’ll call you back once I’ve seen Feilong off, and tell you what Yoh was doing tonight.”

 

“Okay Asami...thanks.”

 

Aki hangs up and rings Asami’s efficient personal physician. Dr. Yamato doesn’t ask questions, but says he’s on his way. Akihito hears him muttering that he wishes some clients didn’t have such a disturbing tendency to find themselves mysteriously under the influence of drugs that shouldn’t exist before he ends the connection. He returns to Yoh’s room and lets him know what the doctor is on his way. Yoh lifts his head and tries to argue, but Aki informs him severely that if he doesn’t let Dr. Yamato examine him and make sure he’s not in any danger, Asami will kick his ass when he gets home. He’s really not sure how much of it Yoh even comprehends. Biting his lip nervously, he goes out to the living room to wait. Part of him wants to stay by Yoh’s side, but he knows that Yoh won’t like knowing Akihito sees him like this, and if it’s anything like the aphrodisiac he himself had been given, he’s going to remember every detail.

 

Asami calls him back and fills him in on what he’d asked Yoh to investigate tonight. He’s also spoken to Suoh and received his report.

 

“It wasn’t my intention to deceive either you or Feilong in any way. I had no idea Yoh would end up confronting the men in the warehouse on his own. My plan was to have him make sure the lead my investigator supplied was good, and that we’d decide how to proceed from there.”

 

“I believe you,” says Aki. He can mostly tell when Asami’s putting him off, and this doesn’t feel that way. Besides, he thinks he’s earned enough of Asami’s trust after helping to free Fei and Yoh from Baishe that Asami won’t hide things like this from him anymore. Not that he expects to be made a part of strike teams on a regular basis or anything. That had been a special exception, because it had been someone he cared about who was taken from them. “I’d have been fine for you guys to take care of this. I mean, it’s a really mean trick, what someone did to us, especially if it really was planned, and all by the same guy, but I hope I don’t have to be part of anymore gun battles for a while!”

 

Asami chuckles softly.

 

“I’m relieved to hear it. I’m sure Yoh had a good reason for acting on his own tonight, and that he’ll tell us about it when he’s able to. I’m also positive we’ll be able to find out more from the man Suoh retrieved from the place a little while ago.” All the warmth vanishes from his voice, sending a little shiver up Akihito’s spine. They talk a while longer. Aki has to pause to let the doctor in, but doesn’t accompany him to Yoh’s room, wanting to afford the other man as much privacy as he can. Asami tells him everything he knows, which really leaves him with more questions than it answers. He can hear the frustration in Asami’s voice too, and knows that he wants those answers even more than Akihito does, and dislikes having to wait for them.

 

At length, the doctor emerges and informs him briskly that Yoh isn’t in immediate danger, and that whatever has happened to him doesn’t bear much resemblance to what had happened to Feilong.

 

“ _ Much _ resemblance?” he asks cautiously. 

 

“His blood pressure is elevated more than is healthy. The human body can tolerate this for a while, but it eventually becomes dangerous. His insistence that he’s just going to ‘wait it out,’ as he says, could become dangerous if it goes on too long. If he won’t cooperate, especially once Feilong-san returns home, and this doesn’t abate within the next five or six hours, you’re going to need to take him to the hospital. Hopefully, one of you will be able to get him to listen to reason. I should think a little embarrassment was a smaller price to pay than a cardiac infarction!” Dr. Yamato sniffs primly and takes his leave. Akihito thinks about what he’s said. 

 

“We’ll just see about that,” he mutters, lifting his chin and marching down the hall.

 

He opens the bedroom door and walks back to Yoh’s side. Kneeling down, he reaches out to put a hand on Yoh’s shoulder, but stops himself. His touch won’t be reassuring, as it’s meant to be. He knows that Yoh has no wish to react to Aki’s touch the way he normally reacts to Feilong’s. Akihito doesn’t want that either. He withdraws his hand and rests his chin on his folded arms on the edge of the bed.

 

“Yoh? Hey, Yoh?”

 

Yoh opens his eyes and regards him through eyes which don’t want to focus. Akihito is here? When did that happen?

 

“Aki...leave me...alone. I’ll be...all right…”

 

“Yeah, you said that already. Listen, Feilong’s on his way. It’s...well, it’s not gonna be too much longer before Fei gets home and...the doctor says you’ll be okay once...Yoh, don’t just lay there and be miserable. It’s probably gonna be like it was with the rest of it, so it won’t go away until you...um....work it outta your system? Feilong’s coming to help you, but you should...start without him.”

 

“Why did you call him? I didn’t want him to worry…”

 

“Dumbass,” cries Aki, straightening and glaring severely at Yoh. “That’s what loving somebody is about, you know! If it was Feilong lying here like this, wouldn’t you drop whatever you were doing and come to help him?”

 

“Of...of course….but Feilong-sama’s business is...much more important...than mine. He...he  _ is _ my business….”

 

“Don’t be stupid. If you don’t think you’re more important to him than any business deal, then you’re just...you’re a  _ fool _ . None of that matters! You don’t  _ compare _ when you love someone! You’re just there for them when they need you! And you don’t hide what’s going on with you, that’s not fair! All it does is makes the other person feel like they’re not important enough for you to let them in! You’re not  _ sparing _ Feilong from anything, asshole! If...if one person thinks you’re partners and then the other person won’t let them help when they’re in trouble, well then all you’re doing is acting like you’re  _ not _ !” He’s almost yelling by the time he stops his rant, and almost on the verge of tears.

 

“Oh, I quite agree,” says a cool voice from the doorway behind him. Aki leaps to his feet and whirls around. It is Feilong. Akihito gives a glad cry and runs to him, throwing his arms around him. Feilong returns the hug, but doesn’t take his eyes off of Yoh.

 

“FeiFei! I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been so worried!”

 

“You were right to call, Aki...thank you. Now if you don’t mind, you can go on up and get some rest. I’ll take it from here.” Feilong’s voice is soft, and sounds almost devoid of emotion, but something in the tone makes the hairs on the back of Akihito’s neck stand up. He says goodbye and heads for the back stairs that lead to the penthouse. Yoh will be all right now. At least...until he recovers from the effects of the aphrodisiac….

 

“Hello, lover,” purrs Feilong once Aki has departed. “I’m home.”


	2. Aphrodisia IV, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't think it'll be very hard to guess what's going to happen now. Hopefully, no one will be disappointed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't do drugs, m'kay?

The sound of Feilong’s voice alone is enough to pebble Yoh’s skin, send his heart racing even harder, and make his cock twitch eagerly between his legs. He can’t hold back a soft moan. He lifts his head, shame and happiness warring in his head for supremacy.

 

“Fei...Feilong-sama...you didn’t need to come,” he whispers. But oh, he thinks, I am so glad to see you. Feilong looks even more beautiful than usual to him, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that he looks dangerously furious. His pale skin seems almost luminous, sheened by a pearl-like luster, his dark eyes fathomless, drawing Yoh in to drown in them.

 

“Shut.” Feilong’s reply is vicious, biting off each syllable and seeming to spit it at Yoh, “Up.” He moves, prowling slowly around the bed, head cocked to the side just a little, a predator watching wounded prey with interest, considering where to strike, or just enjoying its helplessness. “If you weren’t so  _ fucking _ pretty right now,” he continues in the conversational tone of voice Yoh knows he uses when it amuses him not to let someone know how dangerous their position is, and how close to mortal peril, “I’d make you lie there and jerk yourself off for a while without touching you.”

 

“If that is...is your wish…” gasps Yoh, closing his eyes momentarily because he’s afraid he’s going to come just from looking at Feilong in a minute. Feilong rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh for the love of…” He breaks off and curses colorfully in Cantonese for several long moments. Then, without taking his eyes off of Yoh, he begins shedding his clothing. “How  _ dare _ you think to deprive me of an opportunity like this? No, don’t try to answer me, fool. I’m furious with you, of course, but that’s for another time, when you’re more yourself. You owe Akihito a very big Thank You...as do I, for that matter. You and your iron will. Your legendary control. And now...now I get to see you stripped of it. See you wrecked. I’d almost thank the person who’s given me such an opportunity, if I didn’t wish to kill them more.”

 

“ _ Please _ ,” breathes Yoh. He’s not capable of more. Now that Feilong is here, despite his efforts to the contrary, all he can think of is that he’s going to die if Feilong doesn’t touch him. Immediately, if not sooner. 

 

His torturous striptease finished, Feilong leans down and grasps a corner of the bed sheet in one fist, yanking it free of Yoh’s grasp and dropping it at the side of the bed. With that, he pounces. In the blink of an eye he has his lover pinned to the bed, black eyes ranging searchingly over Yoh’s flushed face, staring in fascination into his eyes, blurred with lust. Yoh’s hips arch of their own volition, seeking contact, anything. 

 

“Know this,” whispers Feilong, leaning down so that his lips are mere centimeters from Yoh’s, his breath warm, scented with the faintly floral tea he likes, “I love you more than life, never doubt that. But you’d better get ready, because I’m about to fuck you like I hate you.”

 

His mouth smashes down on Yoh’s, in a kiss as brutal as it is perfect. If Feilong were gentle with him right now, Yoh thinks he might die. He returns the kiss sloppily, clumsily, whimpering helplessly when his arousal mounts. Feilong falls against him, his body weight pressing Yoh down, and he cries out helplessly when the first climax feels torn from his aching body, closing his eyes tightly as his vision tunnels. Feilong’s evil laugh should probably frighten him a little, but it doesn’t. The need doesn’t abate at all, and the danger his lover radiates thrills him.

 

“Get on your fucking stomach,” Fei snarls, moving away to reach for the jar of lubricant beside the bed. Yoh’s skin feels momentarily cold with the loss of contact, but the flush of heat is back in an instant, and he struggles to obey. The friction of the sheets against his cock is almost too much for him, so he lays very still, fighting the mindless urge to rut against them. More than he wants his next breath, he wants Feilong inside him.

 

The crack of Fei’s palm connecting with his ass sounds louder than a gunshot in Yoh’s ears, spearing into his brain, but the bite of it, the sensation, is exquisite. Feilong spears two fingers inside him roughly. His groan is inhuman, and he’s coming again moments later as he’s fingered open impatiently. Feilong just laughs again and spreads his fingers apart. It wrings and anguished cry from Yoh, but not from the pain of the stretch. Waiting is pure hell.

 

“Now, please now, now, oh please,” he chants breathlessly. Feilong slaps his ass again, hard.

 

“You’ll suffer through it,” he growls. “You’re getting fucked  _ utterly _ brainless tonight, and no matter how badly we both want to get to that, I won’t damage you.”

 

But Yoh is too far gone, lost to the demands of his body, to appreciate his lover’s concern. He bucks up into Feilong’s fingers, continuing to gasp out mindless pleas. It seems an eternity before those torturous fingers are withdrawn, and yet, despite having been pleading moments before for it to stop, for more, the loss makes Yoh feel desolately empty. Tears prick the corners of his eyes. As though from very, very far away, a small part of his brain clamors at him that this behavior is unseemly, that this isn’t him, but the thought is effervescent, and cannot pierce the fog of desire. Then he feels Feilong’s hand on his hip, the blessed weight of his body pressing Yoh down once again. The head of his cock, slippery and warm, presses against Yoh’s entrance.

 

“Are you ready?” asks Feilong, the silky tone a clear warning that the answer is probably irrelevant. “Oh, never mind, I don’t care. I am.” Of course the care he’s taken to make sure Yoh’s body is prepared dampens the threat somewhat, but Yoh doesn’t care. He likes this side of Feilong just fine on a normal basis. Right now he  _ craves _ it. An inhuman sound is torn from his guts when Feilong shoves his cock all the way home. The brief flash of pain is completely subsumed by pleasure that literally blinds him. His third orgasm is better than the first two as his asshole clamps down on Feilong, and he shouts helplessly, fingers and toes digging into the bed. He feels something rip, but can’t find any of the chagrin he’d normally feel at damaging such expensive sheets. Above him, Feilong sucks in his breath and then curses softly.

 

“Gods,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “So hot inside you, so fucking tight. Go on then, filthy boy, come for me.” He draws his hips back and then snaps them forward hard. Yoh can’t say anything yet, still shaking, still trying to remember how to breathe, but he nods his head, nods and nods, lifting his hips as best he can.  _ Please, _ he thinks,  _ please, don’t stop. I’ll die if you stop. Fuck me. Harder, please, harder! Need you.  _

 

Feilong gives him exactly what his body craves, pounding into him harder and harder. He plants one hand in the center of Yoh’s back and holds him down, using his back and shoulders to fuck brutally into his shuddering body. His cock grinds into Yoh’s sweet spot with every deep, driving thrust. Through another climax, and then another, Feilong fucks him. It aches a little now, but Yoh revels in the pain, and when Feilong hauls his hips up and begins yanking his body back to meet every thrust, Yoh lets out a low growl and  _ helps _ him, rocking into it, shoving himself onto his lover’s punishing cock, sparks seeming to flash up his spine into the pleasure centers of his brain.

 

And still, Feilong hasn’t come. Yoh doesn’t know how long it’s been, and can’t bring himself to care. His first concern is usually for Feilong’s pleasure, not his own, but his body, fevered by the drug driving it, can only feel. The fog swirls, giving him occasional brief glimpses of clarity, but never for long. I rolls back, red and mindless and thick, dragging him down into it. His breath sobs in his chest as his balls draw tight, his cock slapping him in the belly as he’s ridden, taken, and he howls when he comes. It hurts, but he welcomes it. This time, afterwards, the fog does clear. It’s only a little, but thoughts begin to become a little clearer. Thoughts he can put into words, and with the need, and the desire that begins to crawl back almost as soon as he’s finished coming, he finds he can’t keep the words in any more than he can hold back the need. They spill out of him, a half-nonsensical torrent of truths he can’t hide under the onslaught of the pleasure Feilong just keeps giving him, and...now that he  _ can _ think a little...his realization that his lover has been fucking him for a really long time, holding himself back, staving off his own pleasure for Yoh.

 

He remembers a conversation they’d had years ago, back in China. Feilong had told him about the Emperors of old, how they’d had not just a wife, but multiple concubines as well. Sometimes more than a hundred. That the Emperor was expected to service all of his women a certain number of times each month  _ and _ required to make certain that each was well satisfied. The math on it had been a little mind-boggling, because to bed and pleasure a hundred women more than once a month meant that most nights, the Emperor had to fuck more than one woman. But it got even more astonishing. These men were trained in prolonging the act, in putting off their own release, by various exercises, breathing techniques, and methods of the sex act that wouldn’t allow them to lose control. They used oral techniques too, of course, and in fact believed that swallowing a woman’s essence would increase their own potency, but that hadn’t been as fascinating as the rest. To top off the astonishing feats of sexual prowess required of the Emperor, Feilong had told him that it was forbidden for his Royal excellency to spill his seed  _ except for purposes of fertilization. _ And that the women deemed worthy of bearing his children kept careful track of their menses so that they’d know when such was possible. And  _ that _ meant that on most nights, despite being required to satisfy multiple partners completely, the Emperor didn’t have an orgasm of his own. Current circumstances remind Yoh that at the end of the conversation, Feilong had told him that it was the woman his father had hired to train him in the passionate arts who had told him this, and that she’d also taught him the same techniques practiced by the Emperor. The last thing he’d said rings most important in Yoh’s mind.

 

“But I’m a selfish creature,” Feilong had laughed. “I sincerely doubt I’m ever going to care about anyone enough to put off my own pleasure so long, even if it were somehow required. Besides,” he’d given a lascivious wink, “she taught me well enough that I’m never going to need to.”

 

But with a tiny corner of his brain restored to higher function, Yoh recognizes the pattern Feilong had described to him, one the ancient Chinese Emperors had practiced so they wouldn’t come. Nine thrusts. A pause. And again. Over and over. He tries to hear above the pounding of his blood in his ears. Feilong’s breathing is slow and deep, timed and steady. He ravages Yoh’s body with his own, giving him what he needs to get through this, without a thought for himself.

 

And so the words come, and Yoh gives Feilong all the truth in his heart.

 

“I love you,” he cries, his voice hoarse and cracked, but it doesn’t stop him. “Oh, my master, I have loved you from the moment I saw you. Ah! The only time I served you only at Asami’s request was on the day I walked through the doors of that...ha...prison...before I saw you. I’ve been yours since that day. And until...hnn...until the day I die. Oh...oh s-so good. Everything. All I am. All I have. Lay...lay it all at your feet. Yours alone...forever.” Tears stream unnoticed down his face.

 

“Yoh,” Feilong whispers.

 

“There’s nothing... _ nothing _ I want more….than to be your...Ahh!...your faithful servant f-for the rest of my li-life. Should you...ngh...should you never t-touch me again….af-after this night….I’ll be content...just being by...your side…” His words are liberally interspersed with gasps and  helpless moans, but no matter how breathtaking the pleasure becomes...and he can feel it again, growing claws that begin to prickle at his spine, beginning to pool in his belly, but he can’t stop.

 

When Feilong’s carefully controlled rhythm falters for a moment, Yoh’s throat tightens. He swallows hard past the feeling, some of the shame that has continued to clutch at him from the beginning no matter how deeply the pleasure drowns him loses its grip. Could his words be affecting Feilong too? 

 

“Only you,” he pants, “There is...only you. I’m sorry...oh gods...so sorry. I should...should have called you. My e-every thought is of you...to please you...to make your life easier. I thought to...spare you...Ah! Hah...incon...inconvenience. S-so proud. Of the...ngh...the man you’ve become. Wha...what you’re...building now...with Ah...Asami….and on your own. Is so im...important. Wa-wanted you to...to see the permits...through. I’m  _ sorry _ . For...forgive me, F-Feilong-sama....oh  _ fuck _ , I’m...AHH!”

 

“I-Idiot,” gasps Feilong. “Now I’m not going to be able to...chastise you properly...later. Yes. Damn it. You’re forgiven.”

 

“Thank you,” Yoh sobs a little. He can’t help it. He can’t remember the last time he cried. “Oh...please...don’t...don’t hold back. I’m...ungh...I’m going...going to c-come. Please, I...I love you, Feilong-sa-sama...let go. Agh...oh now, please...please…” He lets out a strangled cry as his body convulses. His cock twitches, and he loses himself again. The spasms of release are nearly agonizing, but he doesn’t care. Feilong’s fingers convulse, digging deeply into his hips with bruising force. His cry is beautiful to Yoh’s ears. Feilong shudders, slamming himself inside his lover’s body so hard it hurts them both a little, as the effect Yoh’s words have on him, and his heartfelt plea, cut through Feilong’s control and he lets his own needs come crashing back. Yoh’s unbelievable tight heat, and the clenching of his inner muscles when he comes, pull Feilong with him. 

 

He stays frozen for some time, joined to Yoh, trying to remember how to breathe. Dazedly, he considers that maybe he should have considered using the techniques taught to him so many years ago by Madame Inoue before now. Prolonging his release had let his own pleasure build, ramping it up to the point that, when he’d at last let go, he’d come incredibly close to blacking out from the intensity, the sensation that had flooded his body, raging through his blood like fire, going on and on. He huffs out a weak laugh and very slowly withdraws from Yoh’s body, shuddering again as aftershocks spark in his nerve ending. Yoh whimpers softly. His oversensitized hole is red and swollen. He must be terribly sore by now. 

 

Feilong helps him lie down, his touch gentle, then he settles beside him, graceful fingers tracing absent designs on his lover’s chest. 

 

“I knew...I know you love me,” he whispers, reaching up to tenderly brush Yoh’s bangs back out of his eyes, off his sweaty forehead. “But I never knew...you’ve never spoken of your feelings that way. I’m...I must admit, I don’t feel worthy of such devotion. Not...a man such as I.” 

 

Yoh raises an arm that feels remarkably like an overcooked udon noodle and touches Feilong’s cheek, his fingertips ghosting over beloved features. He smiles weakly.

 

“A man such as you is iminently worthy. But I...did not...it was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. It...the drug…”

 

“Stop. Drugs had nothing to do with it. Yoh…” He shakes his head gently, a smile unlike any Yoh has ever seen on his beautiful face. Feilong leans down and kisses him tenderly. “I love you too. As I’ve never loved anyone else. Yes,” he says, as Yoh’s lips part in surprise. “Anyone. I would...I would give up all others for you, if you wished it.”

 

“No….No!” Yoh struggles weakly, trying to sit up, but his arms don’t seem to want to cooperate. He takes Feilong’s hand and squeezes tightly. “What I said...my feelings aren’t changed...and they aren’t hurt either, by what you share with Asami and Akihito. They give you things I cannot, and I’ve never lied when I said I wanted you to have those things!  _ Never. _ They’re important to me too, and I’m  _ grateful _ to them. For...for the way they’ve healed your heart. For the peace they give you in ways that I can’t, perhaps because I love you too much. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do some of the things for you that Asami does. You need them, and that means...so do I. And...they are….they’re family. I...I never thought to have one again.”

 

“I keep saying I don’t deserve you,” murmurs Feilong, “but you keep insisting that I do. Perhaps… perhaps it’s time to change my words. I shall...do my best...to deserve you, Xinai.*”

 

Yoh smiles brilliantly at him. Then the sensation of Feilong’s fingertips returning to their gentle tracing sends a shiver through him, and he gasps.

 

“It’s not gone yes, is it?” Feilong frowns in concern.

 

“It’s...better. But...no...apparently not...not gone,” admits Yoh, as his body begins to rouse again. He feels a sinking in his stomach. He’s already rubbed thoroughly raw inside. But his body doesn’t care, and he watches with fascinated horror as his cock slowly begins to swell.

 

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to...rise to the occasion again...for a while,” says Feilong with a rather dirty smile. “And I really do think it’s probably going to be a few days before you can tolerate being penetrated again in any case.” He heaves a mock, put upon sigh. “Ah well. There’s nothing for it. You’re just going to have to top this time.” Yoh goggles at him in amazement. At the moment he’s pretty sure he’s not capable of moving, let alone topping  _ anything. _ Feilong’s smile turns coy. “Well,” he amends, “after a fashion, that is.” 

 

Quick as a cat, he straddles Yoh, and despite that the rest of his body is still shaking with tiredness, his cock is very happy to see Feilong, and finishes coming to complete attention awfully fast. Feilong snags the little red glass jar he’d left lying on the bed some indeterminate number of hours ago, and dips two fingers inside. Then, not taking his eyes off Yoh’s face, he reaches behind himself. Yoh closes his eyes and shivers when he hears the obscene squelch of the stuff as Fei preps himself. They fly open again when long fingers encircle his prick and he feels the unmistakable sensation of Feilong pressing its head against himself.

 

“F-Feilong-sama,” he stutters in alarm, “don’t! I don’t….I don’t want to hurt you!”

 

Feilong’s laughter sounds like bells. Yoh swallows and concentrates on not bucking his hips up into him, because he really, really wants to.

 

“What was it I heard Akihito say to Asami the other day that was so terribly crass and yet so delightfully apropos? Oh, I know,” muses Feilong. “I’m fucking this cat. You just hold it’s head.”

 

While Yoh is still trying to figure out what this rather shocking statement means, he sits down. Hard. The meaning of the words ceases to matter one iota as his cock is abruptly surrounded by soft, tight heat. His eyes roll back in his head and his toes curl. Feilong hisses in pain, but rolls his hips up and shoves them down again, this time seating himself fully. Yoh lifts shaking hands to wrap them gently around his lover’s hips, his thumbs stroking soft skin. He looks up worriedly into Feilong’s face. The strain of taking him so quickly and without much stretching  _ at all  _ shows in the tiny frown between his sculpted brows, but Fei smiles down at him smugly.

 

“If you’ve forgotten in your compromised state that  _ I _ happen to like it rather a lot when you hurt me, beautiful boy, then that’s your problem. Now shut up and let me take care of you.”

 

“As...as you wish, Feilong-sama.”  _ The Princess Bride _ happens to be one of their secret favorite movies to watch alone together.

 

“I love you too,” says Feilong softly, reaching down to brush his fingertips over Yoh’s lips. His tongue slips out to taste. Feilong sighs, and Yoh lifts his head just a little (which is about all he can manage just now anyway) and take them between his teeth, nipping softly. Fei hums appreciatively, then pulls his hand back, puts both of them behind him, bracing them on Yoh’s thighs, and begins to move. It’s slow at first, his hips rocking gently, grinding slowly against Yoh’s body, squeezing him tightly.

 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” whispers Yoh fervently.

 

“That’s the idea,” agrees Feilong. After a few minutes of this maddeningly slow pace, he lifts himself up and slides easily back down Yoh’s length. He puts his years of acrobatics, ballet, and martial arts training to good use, and within another few minutes, Yoh is nearly cross eyed with desire. As it mounts, some of his energy begins to creep back, and he is able to move in time with his lover, raising his hips to meet Feilong as his hips rise and fall. They both gasp a little when this increases the force and depth of their joining. 

 

“You are so beautiful,” Yoh says softly.

 

“Mm, I know,” agrees Feilong. Yoh laughs, and suddenly finds he has the strength to move after all. Sitting up, he wraps one arm around Feilong’s waist, pressing their bodies together. He groans quietly at the utterly delicious sensation of warm skin against his own. His other hand slides through the silk of Fei’s hair, sighing in pleasure at its remarkable softness between his fingers. Slowly, he closes them into a fist and drags Fei’s hair back, placing biting kisses along his collar bones and throat.

 

“Ohh...that, do more of that,” approves his lover with a soft gasp. Yoh growls and obliges him, sinking his teeth into the side of Feilong’s throat and biting down hard. The other man’s hips jerk and he grinds himself hard against Yoh, a soft whine escaping him as Yoh deepens the bite. He returns the hair tug, dragging Yoh’s mouth off of him to lean down and capture his mouth for a hungry kiss. Their tongue tangle, and Feilong bites Yoh’s lip sharply. The bright tang of his blood in his mouth is like candy. He licks it away and looks up at Feilong assessingly.

 

“I think,” he says musingly, “that you’re done with the cat.” WIth that, he flips Feilong abruptly onto his back and falls on him, caging him with his arms and grinning wolfishly down at him.

 

“Come here often?” quips Feilong, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

 

“As often as humanly possible,” Yoh assures him. “But this time, after you I think.” The need is still strong, but it isn’t riding him as hard now. He can think, And he knows exactly what this man likes. He lowers his head and power slams his cock into Feilong’s clenching asshole, slamming home again and again, reveling in the feeling, and in Feilong’s breathless cries.  With one hand, he pins his lover to the bed, while the other closes around Feilong’s cock, which has long since recovered from his earlier efforts. Slowly and firmly, he strokes, his hand sliding easily the full length of Feilong’s erection. His thumb slides across the head, slippery with evidence of Feilong’s desire for him. His index finger nudges at the sensitive spot underneath the head with each easy stroke as he slowly drives Feilong mad. It’s exactly what he wants, the both of them growing frantic together. The sense of terrifying helplessness is gone, and while he can still feel its effects, the drug isn’t driving him now. Feilong’s hands reach for him, grasping his arms, his nails digging in sharply. Yoh grins at the small, bright pains and fucks him harder, his hand keeping up its slow, easy pace.

 

“ _ Yoh, _ ” cries Feilong, “Faster...please, faster. I need...ah!”

 

“Oh, I know what you need,” Yoh assures him. But he doesn’t give Feilong what he asks for, not yet. Feilong snarls at him in frustration and tries to heave his hips up, to fuck himself faster in Yoh’s hand. In response, Yoh stops moving it altogether, much to Feilong’s annoyance.

 

“Damn you,” he says furiously. A little breathlessly, Yoh laughs at him and relents, picking up the pace. Feilong moans his approval, his back arching. His fingers tighten even more around Yoh’s arms.

 

“Close?” asks Yoh through his teeth. Feilong nods shortly. Carefully, Yoh angles his hips, his hand almost flying on Feilong’s cock. His heart feels as though it will hammer its way out of his chest. His brows draw together in a frown of deep concentration as he focuses all his attention on giving his lover as much pleasure as he can, on showing him with his body how grateful he is for what Feilong has given him tonight. He doesn’t know if Fei even remembers their long ago conversation about Emperors, and thus how much more what he’d done tonight means, because of those words. He remembers how his heart had died a little that night, hearing Feilong say he’d never care enough about someone to postpone his own pleasure. It soars now. 

 

He feels Feilong’s hole flutter and clench around his cock and doubles his efforts, determined not to let himself go until he’s given some small part of that back. Feilong’s head tosses against the white sheet, his hair ribbons and whorls of inky shadow, his face flushed, lips wet and reddened where he’s bitten them. He opens his eyes, having closed them a minute or so ago, and stares up into Yoh’s face. He sees the moment when they go blind. Feilong’s cock jerks in his hand, his seed spurting out to cover his muscled belly, his hole clamping down  _ hard. _ It is Yoh’s name he cries out as he finds his pleasure. Yoh fucks him through his orgasm, panting, his balls tightening painfully. He lets out an inhuman moan when he comes, moments later, his own cock pulsing inside his lover’s body. He’s coming dry by now, and oh, it hurts. But it’s wonderful too, because it feels finished. When he falls, he has the presence of mind to fall backwards so he doesn’t crush Feilong, because he couldn’t catch himself if his life depended on it. Like a felled tree, he collides with the pillows and doesn’t move, chest heaving as he recalls oxygen and what it means. He feels Feilong ease next to him, beloved arms pulling him close. Tears prick at his eyes, so he forces himself to move a little, turning into those arms. He weeps a little, in gratitude that he’s himself once more, and also because he’s simply overwhelmed. Feilong doesn’t say anything, recognizing that Yoh wouldn’t want him to. They just lie there, limbs tangled, both of them worn quite thin by what they’ve gone through. At length, Yoh returns to himself. There is a part of him that wants to feel ashamed, be horrified by his behavior, but he refuses to listen to it. He remembers Akihito telling him about his own experience, while they’d sat by Feilong’s bedside during his own battle with the drug he’d been given, about how humiliated he’d felt afterwards, but how Asami and Feilong had told him not to be, that he was more beautiful to them, not less, because he’d let them share in his need, and care for him. He won’t tarnish what he and Feilong have shared this night with those kinds of self recrimination. It had not, after all, been his fault.

 

_ If you’d waited for him _ , niggles the part that wants him to feel shame. He shuts it down. They’d had the finished batch of drugs in the canister he’d been hit with, and another to be finished within half a day. They could easily have taken both and been gone by the time Asami and Feilong returned home. Although it had been some risk, he’d done the right thing. He lets go of all doubt and sighs peacefully.

 

“Are you all right now?” asks Feilong.

 

“More than all right,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss Fei.

 

“Well, you completely ruined my plans for tomorrow,” replies the other man severely.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. I had a speech planned and everything. I was going to show you the error of your ways in not bringing this to me immediately after it happened, but you’ve fixed things neatly so that if I do it  _ now _ , I’ll be a complete bastard.”

 

“There  _ is _ a scientist to question,” he offers placatingly. Feilong brightens immediately. He settles back against the pillows with a pleased smile.

 

“Oh, I  _ do _ love a good interrogation.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The word Feilong uses here means "beloved" in Chinese, if I have written it correctly. At least, that's what it's supposed to mean!


End file.
